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WINGS OF YOUTH 



'By 



NANCY BUCKLEY 



(S) 




THE CLOISTER PRESS 

SAN FRANCISCO 

1922 






COPYRIGHT 1922 
BY 

NANCY BUCKLEY 
SAN FRANCISCO 



DEC -4 ^22 



C1A692208 



"Youth took 'wings and flitted among the clouds for 
the "very joy of being freed from the fetters of earth/' 



FOREWORD 

IN THIS little book, ''Wings of Youths her 
second collection of published verses, Nancy 
Buckley has sounded the tender and wivStful 
and also the joyous note of the young heart. The 
fact that her first book, "Laughter and Longing," 
published in 1921, is now in its third edition, is suf- 
ficient testimony to the quality of her verse and to 
the cultured discernment of Californians. 

A mellower tone than we found in her first collec- 
tion distinguishes most of the verses in this volume. 
It shows the growth she has made in an earnest pur- 
suit of her high purpose, and the wider and deeper 
range of powers she has discovered and is bringing 
forth. 

We need such a strong and wholesome spirit as 
hers. It will inspire hope and cheer and sane striving 
against the devastating forces that now, more than 
ever, tend to drag us from our view of a glorious sun 
always shining in the sky. 

W. C. Morrow. 
San Francisco, November, 1922. 



Acknowledgement 



Acknowledgement is hereby made of the courtesy oj 
American Poetry Magazine^ The Nomad, Munsey's 
Magazine, Argosy, All-Story Weekly, The Signet, 
The Queen's Work, Social Progress, The Magnificat, 
New England Homestead, Education, The Calif- 
fornian, Newman Hall Review, Girlhood Days and 
Extension for permission to use in this volume poems 
originally contributed to these magazines. 



TO MARY ELIZABETH 



I 



CONTENTS 



Wings 15 

The Singer 16 

Dreamers 17 

The Little Gypsy 18 

To My Friend 19 

The Net 20 

Love's Witchery 21 

My Little Window 22 

Homesick 23 

Gifts 24 

The Interpreter 25 

The Easter Bell 26 

The Little Old House 27 

My Sweetest Song 28 

Heart 0' Mine 29 

Silver Ships 30 

A Gypsy' s Longing 31 

Candles 32 

A Song Without Words 33 

Rendezvous 34 

For Mary Elizabeth's Birthday 35 

Our Lady of the Flowers 36 

The Best Kind of a Game 37 

Life's Snare 38 

Little Roads 39 

The Secret Room 40 

Cynthia in Her Garden 41 



Gray Eyes 42 

A Little GirVs Garden 43 

The Martyr . . . .....,.,.,. . . . 44-45 

Tryst .,.,.,..... . . . 46 

Enshrined ..,.,.,.,... . . .47 

Macushla 48 

Three Lovely Things 49 

Immolation 50 

Dusk in a Garden 51 

Regret 52 

House 0' Dreams 53 

A Song of Youth 54 

Idyl in a Garden 55 

Nostalgia 56 

TIw Vampire 57 

The Enchanted Land 58 

Paradox 59 

At Night 60 

Haven 61 

By an Open Window in June 62 

Maid 0' Mine 63 

My Songs 64 

Life's Garden 65 

The Vendor of Dreams 66 

The Piper 67 

Fulfillment 68 



iviNgs 

LOVE has wings that folded lie 
Upon my heart with soft caress, 
And nevermore they care to fly 
From my heart's tenderness. 

Love has wings, they've flown away 
With never a tear-drop nor a sigh ; 
How could I hope for them to stay. 
When they so missed the sky? 



Page Fifteen 



^t 



THE SINGERS 

I AM but a singer, 
Yet I ever dare 
Songs to send like arrows 
Quivering through the air. 

Straight and swift and certain 
Flies each little dart, 
Home and harbor finding 
Within your dear heart. 



Page Sixteen 



<DREAMERS 

DREAMERS are poor as poor can be, 
Without a cent put by; 
Theirs is the wealth of sun and sea, 
And rich-robed earth and sky. 

And all their own the silvery moon. 
The rainbow's treasure chest; 

Red roses in the heart of June, 
And love and faith and rest. 



Page Seventeen 



THE LITTLE G TPS Y 

OH! Nina can dance with a gay Spanish dash, 
In her bright scarlet dress with broad yellow sash , 
And black curls a-flying and eyes dark as sloes, 
And music's soft rhythm in her little toes. 

Oh! Nina can sing as she strums her guitar, 
And sweet songs of Seville float in from afar. 
The melody falls from her soft southern tongue. 
And birdlings are silent till her song is sung. 

Oh! Nina can play on her wee castinets. 

The gay tarantella my heart ne'er forgets. 

As forth on the highway I laughingly fare. 

With sweet Nina and youth and love everywhere. 



Page Eighteen 



TO MY FRIEND 

YOU are my friend. Give me no more 
Of costly gems and golden store, 

For these are not the things I prize — 11 1 

For me let lovelight fill your eyes, I' \ 

And give to me your tenderness, ij \ 

Your little broken words that bless i| 1 

And bear away the bitter pain j! i 

And make my heart look up again. li i 

Oh, come into my little room J! 1 

Whene'er descends the hour of gloom, !i i 

iii 

And let your love a candle be ij j 

To bring the light of hope to me! || | 



Page Nineteen 



THE J^ET 

I'M weaving a silken net for you, 
A silken net so fair; 
Forever I'll keep you all my own 
Safe in its lovely lair. 

I'll snare your body so small and sweet 
From all life's pain and harm, 
And o'er your golden head I'll throw 
The magic of its charm. 

And fast my net shall wrap you round, 
I've wrought it strong and well; 
Your little hands alone may break 
Its strong and shining spell. 



Page Twenty 



LOVS'S WITCHERY 

EACH day's a golden hour to me, 
Since I can walk again with thee. 
The sea sings sweetly as of old, 
And all the laughing days unfold 
Their loveliness. The little streams 
Go drifting by like fairy dreams; 
And o'er the perfumed face of Night 
Fall misty veils of silver light. 
Glad promise gleams in morning skies, 
And dawns, for me, in your dear eyes; 
Each day's a golden hour to me 
Since I can walk again with thee. 



Page Twenty-one 



3AY LITTLE WlNT)OW 

FROM out my little window near the sky, 
I watch the clouds like doves go wandering by. 
I hear the song the thrush so sweetly sings, 
As golden arrows flash his shining wings. 
I see the roses full in scarlet bloom, 
Their scented incense fills my tiny room. 
And all the world is free from fretful care, 
And love and joy and youth are everywhere! 
I feel the spell the twilight softly weaves. 
And watch the moonlight silver all the leaves, 
Then tender dreams of life so sweet a part, 
Pass through my little window to my heart. 



Page Twenty-two 



HOMESICK 

THESE city streets are cold and gray, 
And very dim and dark; 
You never hear throughout the day 
The song of meadow lark. 

And hyacinths you never find, 

Blossoming white and blue; 
Not in the city streets unkind 

Does Springtime come to you. 

These city streets are filled with strife. 
Of fight for wealth and fame. 

Today I'd give just half my life 
To hear you call my name. 



Page Twenty-three 



GIFTS 

I FAIN would give you golden gifts, 
But you have gold more rare, 
Since your Good Fairy gave to you 
A crown of golden hair. 

A silver trinket then, perhaps, 
Would make your heart rejoice, 
But what is silver to a maid 
With such a silvery voice? 

Or would a gem your fancy please? 
You've plenty, I surmise. 
Your lips are rubies, rosy-hued. 
And diamonds bright, your eyes. 

Within this scented garden fair, 
A precious gift Fll seek. 
To match the lily of your throat, 
The roses in your cheek. 



Page Twenty-four 



THE INTERPRETER 

FOR him Life lifts her veil and lets him see 
The beauty hid beneath the mystery 
Of sunset glory flaming in the sky. 
And every gentle breeze that passes by 
Leaves soft caress upon his dreaming face, 
And violets from the depths of mossy place 
Raise trusting eyes. And in the nights of June 
Resplendent shines for him a friendly moon. 



Page Twenty-five 



THE EASTER "BELL 

OVER the earth there gladly fell 
The song of many a golden bell ; 
Far and near came the joyous chime 
That heralded the Easter time. 
So loud, so clear, its music rang 
As sweet as if an Angel sang: 
"Lo! Death and Darkness both have fled 
Since Christ is risen from the dead." 
O! little bell, tell wind and wave 
That Love has triumphed o'er the grave. 
Fill all the earth with joyous strain; 
Ring out, sweet bell, again — again! 



Page Twenty-six 



THE LITTLE OLD HOUSS 

AROUND the door red roses grow, 
And as the soft June breezes blow, 
Shy little dreams from petals creep 
And mystic tryst with memory keep. 

They let their tiny fingers rest 
Upon the old wall's broken crest, 
They lift their little faces high 
As if to touch the clear blue sky. 

They try to ease the bitter smart. 
That lives within the broken heart 
Of the sad house, so brown and old, 
That 'neath the flaming sun is cold. 

Shy little dreams — your labor's vain ; 
The little house won't smile again. 



Page Twenty-seven 



^MY SWEETEST SONG 



MY SWEETEST song was stilled 
Alas! by your own hand, 
The day you sailed away 
To a far distant land. 

My sweetest song was filled 
With notes of keenest pain ; 
My thoughts were of primroses 
Along an Irish lane. 

My sweetest song is filled 
With joy-notes strong and clear; 
My thoughts are all of roses, 
For you at last are here! 



Page Twenty-eight 



HSAR T O ' M INS 

WHY are you sad, oh! heart o' mine? 
Is the load heavy, or day too long? 
Now that the sun has ceased to shine, 
Have you forgot your song? 

You must be glad, oh! heart o' mine, 
And bright and gay through pain and wrong, 
And when your spirits begin to pine. 
Must sing your sweetest song. 



Page Twenty-nine 



SIL^E% SHI'PS 

I SIT beside a sapphire sea, 
And watch my ships come home to me, 
And all the world is bright with flame, 
Answering my joyous heart's acclaim. 

Their sails are made of pale white mist, 
By beams of morning softly kissed ; 
Their freight is dreams, a precious store, 
Gathered upon some shining shore. 

Come, little ships of silver hue. 
Bring me fond hopes and visions new. 
Bring me the dreams I lost one day, 
When my Beloved went far away. 



Page Thirty 



c^ grPST'S LONGING 

I'M HEARING the words that you whisper so slow, 
The soft words of love that are tender and low , 
But oh! my wild heart is a-roaming the dale- 
My wild gypsy heart, that cares not for love's tale. 

I'm seeing your eyes and the promise they hold 
Of the wealth of the world and the glitter of gold. 
But oh! my wet eyes that are straining to see 
The hills of the gypsies, the hills of the free! 

I'm touching your lips all aflame with desire, 
And my heart is a-pulsing so close to the fire — 
But oh! 'tis the hills that I'm wanting, my dear, 
The hills where I wandered that spring of the year. 



Page Thirty-one 



CcANT>LES 



THERE is a shrine within my heart, 
Where two small candles burn, 
And when the day's last beams depart. 
To their bright light I turn. 

One candle is your love for me, 

And one my love for you ; 
Your love is strong as the mighty sea, 

And mine is deep and true. 

The little candles ever glow, 

At dusk or morn the same, 
And up their bright flames quickly go, 

When each speaks the other's name. 



Page Thirty-two 



cA SONG WITHOUT WORDS 



THERE is a song within my heart, 
A song I long to sing, 
But all the labor on my part 
No fitting words can bring. 

Yet all the calm and quiet trees, 
Sing it throughout the day, 
And all its tender harmonies 
On breezes float away. 

And from the throat of every bird, 
Asway above his nest, 
The music of my song is heard. 
The song within my breast. 



Page Thirty-three 



RENDEZVOUS 

I'LL surely come some happy day 
To our loved rendezvous, 
Nor time nor space can keep away 
My longing heart from you. 

It may be in the crowded street, 
Where Life goes on apace, 
But I shall know you when we meet 
And smile into your face. 

It may be in the hush of night, 
I'll see your loveliness; 
My heart will run like winged light. 
To meet your sweet caress. 

Nor life nor death can keep away 
My longing heart from you ; 
Sometime — I'll come — perhaps today 
To our loved rendezvous. 



Page Thirty -four 



FOR mARY ELIZA^BSTH'S BIRTHDAY 

IF I but knew just how to say 
The thoughts that fill my heart today, 
I'd write a sonnet fine and grand, 
And put it in your little hand. 

If I but knew just how to sing 
Of Youth on happy shining wing, 
I'd sing a song for you to hear 
And trill it to your little ear. 

If I but knew just how to show 
My love for you through weal and woe, 
I'd take my soul — the better part, 
And place it in your little heart. 



Page Thirty-five 



OU%LADY OF TH8 FLOWERS 

THE glory of the Spring is falling o'er 
The ye ar. The silver-throated songsters pour 
Their bursting hearts in sweetest melody 
That thrills the raptured air to ecstacy. 
And at our Lady's shrine, the lily fair 
Lifts her pure face, a gentle nun at prayer; 
And near her is the rose in glad array 
Of splendid scarlet satin, bright and gay. 
Wee violets, the blue of summer skies. 
Their loving hearts a-tremble in their eyes, 
Look up at Mary and with smiles so sweet. 
They lay their lives as offerings at her feet. 



Page Thirty-six 



THE BSST KIND OF A GAMS 

LET'S play that the whole world is shining, 
And filled with gay laughter so bright; 
With never a word of repining 
From morning to star-covered night. 

Let's play that the rose's red beauty, 
Is filling the land with perfume, 
Let's find that there's pleasure in duty. 
And nothing but heartache in gloom. 

Let's play that the blithe birds are flinging 
Their happiness all through the air. 
Let's play that our life's full of singing 
With hope and soft love everywhere. 



Thirty-seven 



LIFS'S SISiARE 

LIFE offered treasure rich to me, 
Soft gleaming pearls from the Orient sea, 
And worldly fame — and beauty's dower, 
With golden wealth and place and power. 

With eager hands I took the store 
Of Life's fair gifts and begged for more; 
Then found too late with bitter dole 
They forged gold fetters for my soul. 



Page Thirty-eight 



LITTLE %OADS 

SOMETIMES I walk on a little white road 
That leads through the fair heart of June, 
And Joy holds my hand as I saunter along, 
And eventide comes all too soon. 

Sometimes I walk on a little gray road. 
That leads to a dull sullen sea, 
And my heart is a bitter and burdensome thing, 
For Grief makes the journey with me. 



Page Thirty-nine 



THE SECRET %00M 



I HAVE a room within my heart 
Where all my memories are, 
Small honored guests, these little dreams 
That come from near and far. 

When I am sad I enter in 
And meet your loving smile 
That made my joy and happiness. 
For such a little while. 

And in the little room I light 
The lamp of deathless love. 
And all my sorrow quickly goes. 
Like flight of swiftest dove. 



Page Forty 



CYNTHIA IN HER GART^SN 

SHE touches with white hands the flowers fair, 
And they look up and smile to see her there, 
And softly breathe a shy yet warm caress, 
Upon the airy brightness of her dress. 

Then tender dreams that in old gardens bide 
Come eagerly swift-thronging to her side, 
She mothers them — her precious treasure-trove, 
Till, creeping in her heart, they kindle love. 



Forty-one 



GRAY EYSS 



I DO not care for eyes of blue, 
Though warm they are, and pure, and true; 
Nor eyes of brown, so soft and deep, 
Where tender dreams and fancies sleep. 

I care not for black eyes that flash. 
And all one's dear hopes rudely dash ; 
That laugh and dance and mock and tease, 
Invoking mischief as they please. 

But, oh, I yearn for eyes of gray! 
So calm and sweet and softly gay, 
Such dear gray eyes as, long ago, 
For me made heaven here below. 



Page Forty-two 



qA little GIRL'S GARDEN 

I HAVE a little garden fair, 
With soft dreams floating everywhere, 
Filled with tall lilies, gold and white, 
Shy violets and roses bright. 

I listen to the drowsy rhyme 
The river makes in summer-time; 
I lie upon the grass so cool 
Beside a quiet little pool. 

I dream I am a princess grand, 
The greatest lady in the land, 
Bright jewels on my fingers shine, 
And golden wealth untold is mine. 

I dream I am a fairy small, 

Who never wants to grow at all. 

Who plays all through the happy hours 

With dancing leaves and laughing flowers. 



Page Forty-three 



THE MARTYR 



THE sun hangs high in Heaven, darting down 
The glory of a springtime on the town, 
The splendid beauty of the opening rose, 
The promised wealth of music in some close 
Full throated warblers pour unto the sky 
A very incense-cloud of harmony. 
The games will be anon and eager feet 
Hasten from every way and every street 
Pours down its tide with never ceasing flow — 
Where stands the Coliseum vast below. 
Lo! Lo! today, even today, glad hands 
Will loose the fretful tiger from his bands, 
And fling unto the lions with a cry. 
The few who worship Christ, and hence must die. 
A voice is heard: "To us Pancratius yield!" 
Then the gates fall, and on the sandy field 
Stands forth the very flower of Youth, as fair 
As when at night unto the raptured air 
Some lily breathes its ardent soul and dies, 
At joy of death wrapt in high ecstacies. 



Page Forty-four 



"Ah! Emperor, master, Christ is mine and I 

Am Christ's. Your sovereign mandate bids me die 

Your gods are Rome's, Christ mine, and therefor 

falls 
Thy wrath upon me. Lo! 'tis joy. All palls 
When matched with it, and seems but tears, 
But tears and a legion of broad, phantom fears." 
"The panther" — wakes a voice — "he comes, he 

springs!" 
Then with the mounting shriek that fiercely rings 
They watch the panther move across the space, 
They watch the smile upon the boyish face- 
Then in a brilliant glare of light they see 
Him, and his Christ triumph eternally. 



Page Forty-five 



T%YST 



WHEN evening fires are burning low, 
Into my room I softly go; 
In this sweet hour I love the most, 
To tender dreams I am the host. 

Close to my chair each loved one stands; 
I feel the clasp of friendly hands; 
I hear the breathing of their sighs, 
And see the smile within their eyes. 

The night without is gray and old, 
And all my heart is bitter cold; 
'Tis then, fair dreams, I miss you so, 
You and the hour when fires are low. 

The world is full of foolish things; 
Its siren voice forever sings. 
Dear dreams of love, be with me yet, 
Lest I your sweetness all forget. 



Page Forty-six 



eNSH%iNeD 

JUST now the firelight painted 
A picture on my wall ; 
A picture of my sweetheart, 
So dazzling fair, and tall. 

And then the shadows entered, 
And bade my dream depart ; 
I straightway put the picture 
Within my eager heart. 



Page Forty-seven 



^ACUSHLA 

YOUR lips are fair beguilin' 
As they sing a happy tune, 
Your eyes are always smilin' 
Like the sunny skies in June. 

Your hair all bright and shinin' 
Is made of fairy gold, 
It sets my heart a-pinin* 
To own its wealth untold. 

But oh! your love, Macushla, 
Your love so fond and true, 
'Twas God above, Macushla, 
Made the Irish heart of you! 



Page Forty-eight 



TH%EE LOVELY THINGS 

I SAW three lovely things today, 
At morn, a little child at pla3% 
Her hair a net that caught the sun 
And held its gold till day was done. 

At noon, I saw a boy aflame 
With glowing dreams of love and fame; 
His eager heart bridged o'er the years, 
And felt their joy — but not their tears. 

I saw a toil-worn man at night. 
Come to a little home, alight 
With sweet content ; upon the stair 
Wife and child were waiting there. 

There came three lovely things my way, 
At morn, at noon, at close of day, 
And each one brought a gift to me 
To store within my memory. 



Page Forty-nine 



IMMOLATW^^ 

NOT for the martyr's crown 
I pray, dear Lord, 
Not for the quick fierce death 
By heathen sword. 
Not for the battle's cease. 
The victory won. 
Not for the long cool rest 
At set of sun. 
But still the lonely life 
From all apart, 
But still the gnawing pain 
Of bruised heart. 
But still upon the cross 
For love of Thee, 
Until at last, at last, 
Thy Face I see. 



Page Fifty 



T>USK IN cA GARDEN 

I FEEL the breath of summer air, 
I hear a whispered message there 
And raise my eyes, in awe, to see 
The soul of Night unveiled for me. 



Page Fifty-one 



%eGReT 

I BANISHED you with jesting 
That heeded not your fears, 
I turned to love and laughter 
And found no place for tears. 

Now that you're gone, I'm wiser, 
I seek you everywhere. 
My eyes are wet with weeping 
And life's no longer fair. 



Page Fifty-two 



THE HOUSE O'^DREAiMS 

OVER the river upon the hill 
Is a little brown house, fast-shut and still; 
Around it circle sighing trees 
That whisper a plaint to the passing breeze, 
And over it trailing shadows go 
In endless search for flowers a-blow. 

Over the river upon the hill, 
When starry night is cool and still, 
Then comes a dream of days of old — 
A dream of love too long untold. 
My heart runs vainly to the door 
Of the little house on the misty shore. 



Page Fifty-three 



cA SONg OF YOUTH 

LIFE calls nic out on the sunlit road, 
Out where the winds Mow free, 
There's never n sorrow in my liv^lit load 
Nor a c.in' in the licarl of nie. 

And I'll drink my fill of red romance — 
Of love and laughter ^ay — 
And along with me will the lassies dance 
To the lilt of a rondelay. 

And when the moon o'er the shining trail 
Casts a veil of silver light, 
We'll charter a ship of dreams and sail 
Away on the sea of ni.^ht. 



Page Fijly-fo 



lT>rL IN cA GARDEN 

Wi: VJA\A<\'A) in ;i lit He KanN-ii 
All (\rv.\\(\\i'(\ will) silver dew, 
I said: "IIc^w l>lii<- liiosc- violets!" 
"Your eyes are yel ni(;re hliie." 

I touch(,*(J a slender lily, 

So tall and ^(jld and fair; 

"A priceless thinj<," I w}iisj)ere<l, 

"More priceless ^ohl, your hair." 

I plucked a rose so lovely, 
"1 he sweetest flower," I said, 
"But oh, your li[)s are sweeter!" 
Said he, as he f^ent his head. 



Page fifty-five 



"NjOSTAgilA 

A SILVER mist above a summer sea, 
The daffodils a-blow upon the lea, 
The march of stars across the moonlit dome 
Bring poignant longing for the hills of home! 



Page Fifty-six 



THE ^AM^I%E 

HER hair that gleams as morning light, 
Filled with the sunbeams hidden gold, 
Her slender arms that warm and white 
Can happiness and bliss enfold, 
Her eyes, that like dark fires shine. 
And like dark fires soon destroy. 
Her lips that glow like scarlet wine 
And bid men drink of their sweet joy. 
All, all, her body's beauty rare, 
Long slipped the leash of firm control — 
Is used as bait to catch and snare 
And kill a man's immortal soul. 



Page Fifty-seven 



CAN'T you hear the fairies? Their singing fills 
the glen; 
Can't you see them dancing? The gayest little men, 
Dressed in green and yellow, with tiny silver shoon 
That catch their glint and sparkle from June-time's 
golden moon. 

Can't you hear them whispering, whispering soft 

and low, 
All the wondrous secrets that you so long to know? 
But you must ne'er be telling a thing you chance to 

hear; 
The fairies would be sorry they let you come so near. 

Don't you want to travel, these many leagues away. 
To where the fairies revel through the night and 

day? 
The train will soon be leaving, on a track of golden 

dust, 
'Tis this you'll need for luggage: a heart of simple 

trust. 



Page Fifty- 



PqARqADOX 



SOMETIMES I laugh and sing 
To hide my fears — 
My heart a haunted thing 
Abrim with tears. 

Sometimes I softly weep, 
For joy is mine, 
And Love keeps vigil sweet- 
My heart his shrine. 



Page Fifty-nine 



qAT "NJGHT 

SLEEP'S gentle fingers draw me to her feet 
And soon she gives me dreams so bright and 
sweet, 
To hold within my hands and taste their joy, 
And find their gold is all without alloy. 

And then she hides me 'neath her purple dress, 
Then come her lips, my own to gently bless, 
And in my ears soft rings the elfin call 
That bids the heavy wings of rest to fall. 



Page Sixty 



HAVEN 

OH! for the peace of a tiny farm, 
And a path that climbs a hill ; 
And your dear voice, potent charm, 
Singing the love songs still. 

Oh! for a home, sweetheart o'mine, 
By meadow and winding lane. 
And sweet wet violets that shine 
With glint of April rain. 

Today I glimpse through door of dreams, 
This haven of the heart; 
E'en fancied joy has power, it seems. 
To heal the bitter smart. 



Page Sixty-one 



BY AN OPEN V/IN'DOW IN JUNE 



HOW sweet is the fragrance that perfumes the air, 
The wealth of red roses abloom everywhere ; 
The skies of bright sapphire are all bending low 
Above the sweet earth where the soft breezes blow. 

And there, past the hills, is the smile of the sea, 
And the little worn path that led you to me. 
The heart in my breast is calling your name 
As it called it so softly the first day you came. 

The roses are lonely — they're drooping today — 
For June isn't June, because you're away; 
Come back! Ah, Macushla, you answer no word, 
Out there in the din my heart isn't heard! 



Page Sixty-tn'o 



^AID O ' miNE 

DEAR little maid with eyes of blue, 
You bring such lovely gifts with you 
Your golden dreams undimmed by care — 
Your love — your faith so sweet and rare. 

Dancing along through merry hours, 
Heeding not the passing showers, 
You sing in voice of gentle tone 
The softest winds have made their own. 

You bring me dreams of tender things, 
Of butterflies and flashing wings, 
Of days that hold the kiss of June, 
Of nights lit by a baby moon 

Of little saints with folded hands, 
Of gardens where the lily stands, 
Of meadows silvered o'er with dew — 
These are the dreams you bring with you. 



Sixty-three 



MY SO'HGS 

I SPIN my songs from sun to sun, 
And fleetly weave my dreams 
And yet my work is never done, 
But just begun, it seems. 

For every morn, the golden rays 
Of sun come through the trees. 
And evernew the moonlight strays 
Upon the sapphire seas. 

All through the day I see your eyes. 
So sweet and soft and clear. 
And in the night, in swift surprise, 
I hear your voice so dear. 

So ever I spin my little song. 
And weave my dream so true. 
For every hour that speeds along 
Brings new sweet thoughts of you. 



Page Sixty-four 



LIFE'S gARDEN 

I WALKED in a lovely garden, 
All filled with flowers rare, 
And I wanted just one blossom, 
A red rose growing there. 

But so tall it grew and stately, 
So high above my head 
That I could never reach it, 
My rose so sweet and red. 

Ah! what is a lovely garden 
If my heart has no repose? 
And what are all splendid flowers, 
If I cannot reach my rose? 



Page Sixty-five 



THE FEI^DOR OF T>REAMS 

I'VE dreams to sell — fair dreams and bright- 
Wrapped up in silver lace, 
And they will fill your heart with light 
And smile into your face. 

I've dreams of Spring — of happy Spring — 
When hearts beat brave and high, 
I've dreams all caught in a golden ring 
And hid in a roguish eye. 

Would you like a dream of wee sweet lips. 
Or a dream of a night in June? 
Perchance a dream of treasure ships 
A-sail 'neath a silver moon? 

Come buy, come buy . .. I'm on my way, 
I care not for your gold, 
I sell my dreams for a smile so gay, 
Or a heart that ne'er grows old. 



Page Sixty-six 



THE ^IPER 

OH! LIFE was piping on flute of gold, 
And I followed him fast along, 
And my heart was pulsing brave and bold, 
As it sang a gay gypsy song. 

Oh! Love was calling, for it was Spring, 
And I heard his eager cry. 
And forth I fared me, adventuring 
Under the tender blue sky. 

Oh! we three went dancing along the way. 
As Life piped his maddest tune. 
And then, at the close of the golden day. 
We dreamt 'neath the smiling moon. 



Page Sixty-seven 



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FULFILLMENT 



THE ardent sun with laughter gay 
Kissed the modest dawn. 
And ere had come the blush of day 
A rose was born! 

Joy dwelt within the poet's heart, 
Like a captive bird, 
When Sorrow tore the bars apart, 
A song was heard! 

Youth gave the cup of Life to me, 
I saw its jewels shine, 
I drained it, oh, so eagerly. 
And Love was mine! 



Page Sixty-eight 



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